The Forbidden Fruit
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: A Crazy but inspired suggestion by a Twitter buddy who was joking: The birth of a sexy encounter that makes Draco question everything. Dramione, Drapple, Remus/Hermione, Wotcher Wolvie, Wolfstar, Remus/Apple
1. Betrayal

**A/N: As you have probably noticed, this is NOT my usual line of work. I don't do Dramione, and I don't do Drapple, but HogwartsKids on Twitter suggested that someone give it a go, and it sounded like an interesting challenge. This is a one-shot for now. If I get twenty reviews, I will write more. High goal, I know, but this is incredibly out of my comfort zone and I'm writing this at one in the morning. Cheers.**

**-C**

Their secret love was almost too much for him sometimes, reminding himself as he passed her in the corridor or watched her bob up and down in that swotty way in her chair in class – arm raised rigidly like his own appendage – of all the reasons their love was forbidden. She was a Mudblood. He was a pureblood. She was the best friend of Saint Potter. He was the offspring of Death Eaters. She would join the side of Potter and Dumbledore someday. He would bind himself to the Dark Lord, whenever that day came. They both knew these things. But they were all forgotten when they met in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom for their midnight trysts.

Blaise Zabini knew, of course, that something was wrong with Draco, that he was keeping secrets, but all he had said was not to let some silly girl, whoever she was, cloud his judgment. After all, what did Draco know about love at fourteen?

But Romeo and Juliet were fourteen, and they knew more about forbidden love than anyone. Said Hermione. Draco really didn't know who they were, but she mentioned them a lot when they bothered to talk. Mostly, they snogged and shagged. Words weren't really needed for those sorts of expressions and conversations.

Draco was incredibly happy with her. She made his heart light and fluttery, made him unravel with just a single look from those caramel eyes. And yet, he had known from the start that there was something missing in their love, he just couldn't place a finger on what it was. Everything between them had become so rehearsed, so clinical, even after two months of shagging like bunnies at every available opportunity. And her stupid friends thought she was in the library. HA.

And then, it happened. Draco hadn't wanted it to happen. He had just been leaving lunch, just as he always had, when a loan apple in a bowl at the end of the Slytherin table caught his eye. It was green, lush, perfect. The roundness was almost better than the swell of Hermione's breast, the color more appealing than the caramel of her eyes, and the scent… oh, he could almost taste it already.

Carefully looking around to make sure no one –especially not his beloved – was watching, he snatched up the apple and hid it away in his pocket, caressing it as he went, enjoying the feel of the silky skin under his fingertips. Forgetting all about his scheduled rendezvous with Hermione, he snuck back to his dormitory and lay on his bed, setting the apple before him, examining it more closely in this intimate, secluded setting.

There was not a blemish. Even magical apples had the occasional bruise from being bumped around by a pack of overzealous first-years. This apple had none. It was untarnished, unblemished, untouched, and yet, it seemed to ache to be touched, to be ripped into, to share its flesh with one who fully desired it. Oh to be desired so fully, to desire so fully… and Draco desired this apple _so_ fully.

But it was so small, he realized. If he were to simply give into his lusts and have his way with the apple, it would be gone in a flash. He gently caressed its silky swell. If he were to savor it… not gently. No, never that, but perhaps, at length? To make love truly to this apple… not to simply take it in haste. That would be the key. No simple one-night stand would this be.

Class was coming soon… but he so desired that apple… Perhaps just a taste, a kiss, a tiny bit of foreplay for the wild excitement that was to come. To come…

Moving the fragrant, precious apple to his lips, he inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the scent. If someone were to catch him now, in this moment on which everything depended, his entire affair would surely be called to a swift end. He was lucky. No one entered and they retained their solitude.

Parting his lips ever-so-slightly, Draco ran them along the silky skin of his amazing apple. It felt like heaven, like satin, like he was ready to orgasm then and there. He restrained himself, however, allowing himself to merely run his tongue languidly across the surface, his hot breath causing a mass of condensation along the green satin. Unable to contain his lust, he let out a slow, hungry moan, grazing the skin with his teeth, skinning a small portion of the apple and causing a bit of its precious juices, its lifeblood, to escape the thin barrier and dribble into his mouth.

It tasted absolutely divine. He could feel his throbbing member harden, his face flush, his breath quicken. The erotic act he had just committed, this was what was missing in his relationship with Hermione. She would not allow him to scratch, bite, or taste her at all. Her juices were vanished before he ever had the chance to sneak a tiny taste. She was far too good of a witch for her own good, and the erotic dirtiness of the act Draco so longed to commit did not thrill her as it did him. She abhorred such things.

Until now, he had accepted this as a part of their love, a sacrifice for the good things in their forbidden romance. Now, however, he had tasted, he had scratched, he had bitten. There was no turning back anymore. With Hermione, he could never do such things, but if he couldn't get them with her, he could get them elsewhere, even if he would have to settle for less perfect apples in the future.

All through class, Draco had a hard-on, but it was not for eyeing his swotty mistress. Indeed, he did not look at her once. Instead, his hand went in and out of his pocket, massaging the wound he had made on his new lover and discretely bringing the wonderful taste to his lips, sucking his fingers in a way he hoped looked thoughtful and not orgasmic.

It was a Tuesday, he thought to himself at dinner, wondering when he would be able to commit his sinful act with his new lover. He and Hermione never met up on Tuesdays. It would be safe to use Moaning Myrtle's loo for his love-making. No one else would dare go in.

If he had been meeting Hermione, he would have left his dormitory at a quarter to midnight, but for his apple he could not wait. He left at eleven sharp. The bathroom was empty, even of Myrtle, which was indeed a blessing. He wanted no witnesses to the dirty, naughty, deliciously nasty things he was about to do with that apple.

At first, he taunted and teased the apple, caressing it with his fingers and tongue as he had done that afternoon, but he grew so hot that before he knew it he had stripped off all of his clothes, and now he and his apple were both in nothing but their needy skin. Carefully broadening the wound he had made earlier, drawing out more juices, he rubbed them greedily on his nipples, which grew harder than diamonds at the sensation. He moaned deeply, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

Then he opened them as he ran the apple down his skin, watching the act in the mirror. The green against his pale flesh was beautiful, the perfect mating of the perfect Slytherin pair. Perhaps this was why the apple was such a perfect mate: it was Slytherin, taking his abuse, taking his pleasure, and giving abuse and pleasure in its own way in return. Hermione could never be like that. She truly was a Gryffindor and respected herself too much to let him abuse her. But he needed to abuse, to be pleasured by abuse and bring pleasure through it. Only he and the apple could truly understand the importance of this in their union.

Their union…

The apple had reached his sex, circling the hard organ, teasing it with its silky texture and cool touch. His whimper could not be withheld, and there was nothing to withhold from the apple. It knew him. It knew his very soul in a way only an apple could. Draco might have been ashamed at himself at how little time he lasted, but he was too enamored, too enthralled, with the way the apple caught every last drop of his seed to possibly care how long it had been. In his mind, every second was an eternity, and yet everything seemed to be happening in one fleeting second, too quick to grasp.

Hungrily, he lifted the apple to his mouth, admiring the coarse texture of its flesh against his slimy seed. He bit, savoring how his bitter seed coated the already-bitter apple. It was delicious. It was glorious. As much as he had sworn he would make slow love to this divine piece of fruit, Draco could not help himself. In a quick, though sensual way, Draco devoured all the seed and flesh, down to the very core. Then, an idea, a wild, crazy, erotic idea, came to him as he examined the perfectly formed core.

_He had put his seed in the apple, why could the apple not put its seed in him?_

Never before had the thought of being penetrated appealed to him, nor even occurred to him, but in that moment, it seemed the only logical thing to do. Using his wand to cover the core with an oily lube he used with Hermione (that girl never got wet enough for him), bracing himself for the onslaught of pain, Draco carefully pressed one end of the stemless core to his virgin hole, recalling to mind the exquisite taste of the apple as he forced the core in with one fell thrust.

It was no use. He cried out in pain. His system had been temporarily shocked. However, knowing what he must do, he began to methodically thrust the core in and out until the pain turned to pleasure, only vaguely aware that his own blood was helping to lubricate the process. His cock was hardening, and he used one hand to thrust the core, the other to play with himself, moaning and sighing contentedly. A seed dislodged inside of him.

"Oh, yes," he moaned, his cock twitching at the sensation. "Spill that seed. Fill me. Oh, yes."

His eyes were closed once more in ecstasy. If they had remained open, he would have seen in the mirror that he was no longer alone, but at that moment it never occurred to him to remain on alert. All logical thought was hazy and unimportant. He felt _amazing_.

"Oh, goblins, yes," he sighed, "that's it. You're such a good apple, aren't you? Taking my abuse as I use you, disfigure you, deplete you. And then you give me such pleasure, don't you, love? All for me, it's all for me. You're the most unselfish lover. But I love you too much to leave you unsatisfied…"

He cried as two more seeds dislodged inside of him and a squirt of his own seed began to trickle down to the bathroom floor. He wasn't alive anymore. He had died and gone to heaven. This was surely the most blissful thing…

"Draco?"

The voice was tearful, hurt, and coming from being him. He withdrew the bloody apple core, though continued to wank as he opened his eyes in shock and looked in the mirror.

Hermione was standing there, eyes full of anguished tears, her beautiful caramel eyes… She had seen… how much? What did she know? Everything? Clearly something, or she would not be crying.

"How could you?" she hissed. "With an apple, of all things, Draco. How could you do this to me?"

She knew. She knew him well enough that this wasn't just a passing fling, that he was truly cheating on her. She knew that a bit of his heart could never belong to her again. Judging by the tears streaming down her face, she wasn't taking it well.

He wasn't sure what this meant for him, for his love and sex lives, but he knew as she stormed out of the bathroom that one of his loves would be lost to him forever, not sure which it would be, which he wanted it to be. Suddenly, looking down at the bloody apple core in his hand, the reason she had been there dawned on him and his heart shed a tear (he was a Malfoy, after all, and did not cry).

It was their two-monthaversary. They had planned to meet here the month before, even though it was a Tuesday, to celebrate. And he had defiled that sacred day. The bloody apple core fell to the ground and a single tear rolled down the hard surface of his heart.


	2. A Drapple Sequel: For Mark

**A/N: We're back! Whether you found me through my other work, through a happy accident, or through the lovely **_**Mark Oshiro**_**, this is the day: I've received 20 reviews on the first chapter of this fan fiction, and the **_**Drapple**_** is now getting its second part.**

** Firstly, this was inspired by **_**Mark's**_** first reading, where he asked the very important question while reading **_**The Forbidden Fruit**_** aloud in front of a group of people I'd never met before: "Are there Mudblood apples?"**

** And it was then that I promised that if I ever wrote a second part, it would be inspired by this statement, and dedicated to **_**Mark**_**, whose YouTube reading of this still makes me feel warm and fuzzy. I hope he makes one of this as well, just so I can see his face as he reads these words.**

** This one's for you, **_**Mark**_**. Enjoy the exploration of apple blood-purity.**

** -C**

Draco could feel the Mark on his arm stinging, although he was fully aware that at this point it was all in his mind. The actual pain of the branding had subsided months ago, leaving behind a phantom pain that reminded Draco constantly of the work he'd yet to accomplish.

He whimpered slightly at the thought of the punishment that awaited him, the shame stretching out before him forever, should he fail in this task.

There was a brief and sinister flicker of thought in his mind that perhaps the pain in his arm was real, some sort of dull pain to actually serve as a reminder of his service, his forced service, to the Dark Lord. His Aunt Bella was sick enough to do that to a person, so why shouldn't the Dark Lord be thus?

Pacing the room of requirement, Draco decided there had to be some way, some method to test how far he'd gotten with the Vanishing Cabinet.

If what had been wrong with it was truly what Draco thought it was than the whole thing had been a rather easy fix after all and it would have already been completed.

But Draco knew that telling the Dark Lord that his plan was ready to act on without first making sure, absolutely sure, that there was no way anyone could actually use his plan. Nobody wanted to be the one to find out if Draco was stupid or a liar or both.

His hands ran over the mahogany armoire he had been leaning against, staring up at the vanishing cabinet that had become his livelihood, and perhaps even the very hinge of his own miserable life. How easy it seemed to him, now, the taking and giving of new life, a fresh start. Didn't everyone want that?

Draco began to wonder what a fresh start would look like when he found them there, sitting on the armoire beside him, where Draco had been sure they had not been there a moment ago.

Four perfect, plump, delicious-looking...apples.

His mind flashed back to fourth year and for just a moment he thought of turning away.

But he could not help himself, so Draco stepped forward, touching his hand to first the basket they sat in, then to the first apple, beautiful and green, without a blemish, like his once-lover.

Draco bit his lip and then brushed his fingers over this second apple, feeling the silky-smoothness of its bright red skin. He closed his eyes, imagining the skin of a woman, and was surprised to find the skin in his mind to be that of Ginny Weasley.

With a shudder, his hand moved away from the red apple as if bitten.

His hand then touched the yellow apple, first slowly, then quickly as he tried to decide what the difference was between this and the other apples. The skin was weaker, feeling so delicate that he might puncture it with his merely feather-light touch.

Closing his eyes, Draco could very plainly see the dimpled, freckled skin of a girl he'd nearly forgotten the name of: Susan Bones.

His eyes flew open and he moved his hand away, this time a bit more deliberately.

There wasn't anything wrong with Susan, per se. She was from a highly respectable family, clever enough for a Hufflepuff, and had even gotten fairly pretty in recent years.

But she was a Hufflepuff. That was enough.

He looked down at the yellow and red slashed apple, looked at its perfection, but for the colors mixing across its surface, and he felt a revulsion and fascination for it instantaneously with just a simple look, his hand hovering above it as he tried to decide which feeling to give in to.

But the apple was right there, the only one he hadn't touched, and oh, how badly he wanted to touch it, his mind already running over all the possibilities these four apples represented.

With a slightly trembling, excited hand, Draco finally touched the pied skin of the apple, closing his eyes and seeing the familiar skin of the neck of Hermione Granger.

He stepped away from the apples, still shaking, recalling that it was over an apple very much like the green one in the basket before that had ruined his love with Hermione, shattered their affair. His face still could feel the stinging of the very public swing she'd taken at him days later.

Draco took a deep breath, collected himself with all the dignity befitting a Malfoy, and he touched the apple again.

He was overcome with lust, plucking the apple from the basket hungrily, running his fingers along its silky skin with delight at the sensation, careful to keep his eyes open, terrified to see the body of Hermione Granger once more, to thus spoil the act with this apple this.. this...

This Mudblood apple.

He moved the apple to his lips, moaning slightly at the silky texture against his more sensitive skin. Draco could recall with passionate excitement the first moment he had thus touched his other apple to his lips.

Already he'd bitten in to the sweet apple, allowing the unfamiliar taste of this particular breed of apple to acclimatize to his mouth when he heard something, heard the sound of the door to the room of requirement being opened, and so he gave off on his pleasurable activities, and, feeling rather guilty of the apples, returned the Mudblood apple to the basket and shoved the apples into the Vanishing Cabinet, shutting the door without a second thought.

Into view walked a small girl, a fourth-year Slytherin girl he'd seen around. Her sister was in his year, Draco thought, but he could not recall her name.

She had pale skin, suitable to her pureblood heritage, and curling, dark hair.

He swallowed hard, trying to think of how to explain his presence in the room of Hidden Things.

And then he remembered something very important, something that saved him completely:

He was a Prefect, and therefore had a right to be searching parts of the castle, if only he could think of a story good enough. The question really was, why was this girl in the room and how could he get rid of her quickly so he could get back to what he was doing?

"Oh, Malfoy!" she said, surprised to see him, blushing slightly. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I'm just looking for my jumper."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Why is your jumper here?" he drawled.

"Oh, well, Pansy and Daphne thought it would be clever to hide my jumper from me," the girl said, looking embarrassed. "They like to tease me. Anyway, I overheard Pansy bragging about it to Blaise and I came to look for it. What...what are you looking for?"

"Evidence," he lied easily. "Some first years probably hid their Fanged Frisbee in here. They got rid of it entirely too quickly for it to be otherwise."

"Oh," the girl said happily, and Draco remembered her surname, anyway, in that moment.

Greengrass.

She was a prettier version of her sister, Daphne Greengrass, a follower of Pansy Parkinson.

"Find your jumper and go," Draco said, pointing toward the front of the room. "They would have put it up there. They wouldn't have thought you clever enough to actually find their hiding place."

He would have expected her face to dampen with the almost-insult, but instead she just smiled at him.

"Oh, yes, I suppose you're right," she chirped.

With that, the Greengrass girl pranced back to the front of the room, opening a few drawers and boxes until she found her green jumper, pulling it on as she waved goodbye and heading out to the corridor, leaving Draco deliciously alone at last.

Turning sharply, he realized he'd closed the door to the cabinet and his heart pounded in dread.

Carefully, nervously, he opened the door to find the cabinet empty. He whimpered, closing the door sharply and opening it again to find that the basket reappeared, and with the apples, in more or less a recognizable form.

Except that the basket was more or less in shreds and the apples were little more than mush with mangled cores.

But Draco knew what they were, and that was the important thing.

Or rather, it would have been the important thing if he hadn't needed the cabinet to completely destroy things that were transported in it.

He ran his fingers through his hair, fully aware of the failure of his plan that seemed to be getting worse rather than better as he Vanished the disgusting mess in the cabinet that reminded him both of his shameful desires and his pathetic attempts to fulfill his task.

Draco stood for a long moment, merely staring at the cabinet and trying to think of what else he might do to fix it, running over what he'd already done in his head, looking for holes in his method. Finally, he pulled out his wand and went to work on the cabinet, carefully attempting to mend the helplessly broken Vanishing Cabinet.

Finally, he sighed, exhausted, sliding to the floor beside the cabinet and wiping his brow. How much longer would this take? He didn't have too long before he would be considered failed, before he would be punished severely.

Draco was staving off what had felt recently like ever-present tears and he covered his face with his hands, leaning against the Vanishing Cabinet with enough force to jostle it just a touch.

It was then that he felt something hit his hip, just where his body touched the ground, nestling snuggly against him. He peaked through his hands to find that the apple, the deliciously, marvelously green apple, had somehow been spared the fate of the others, perhaps falling out the basket and onto the floor in all his haste to hide the objects of his lust.

With shameful haste he snatched u the apple, bringing it directly to his mouth but not to bite. No, this was the last of his treasures and it would not be tossed away so quickly finished as when he was young. Draco was a man of the world now, experienced and with significantly more stamina than he'd had three years ago.

It was with this in mind that he touched his lips gently to the skin of the firm, green apple, a rush of excitement filling every bit of his body, and some bits more than others.

With careful fingers, Draco undid the top buttons of his shirt, just enough buttons to run the apple down his throat, along his collarbone, and down the center of his chest until the apple was level with his nipples. Then he moved the apple over to his right nipple and began caressing it, allowing himself to moan a little as his other hand quickly undid his trousers.

Pulling out his cock whilst so distracted was surprisingly easy for Draco, although it did feel for a moment to be frustratingly slow work. He calmed himself, though, reminding himself that there was no rush at all.

Draco began to beat a steady, familiar rhythm as the apple danced and explored his skin, seemingly of its own accord. He forgot, in his ecstasy, that the apple was attached to his hand, which of course knew all of his most sensitive places. He threw his head back and hit the Vanishing Cabinet, reminded for an instant of the task he was distracting himself from, and how very important it was. That thought, however, was drowned out by the awareness of the apple on his sensitive skin, caressing him sweetly as if coaxing him back into their game.

It took very little time for Draco to lose himself, almost on the brink of his climax when he heard something, something very much like the door opening and shutting and he hastily tossed the apple into the cupboard as he had before, so in a panic that he couldn't think of why this was a bad idea.

He finished as he knocked the door to the cupboard closed, shoving his fist against his mouth to keep the cries of his passion held in, muffling the sound.

Footsteps, footsteps were growing closer and Draco hastened to hide himself but he didn't manage it in time, looking up to find the same girl staring at him as though she'd never seen him before.

"Oh!" she said, her pretty eyes quite wide. "Oh, I'm so sorry to have disturbed you. I just...I thought I hadn't properly thanked you and I...I was a bit glad you were still here but I...I think I'll just be going now."

She said all of this rather slowly, which was a stark contrast to Granger, who always spoke quickly when flustered.

True to her word, the girl rushed out again, probably blushing as brightly as she had when looking at him.

Draco took a moment to catch his breath again before righting himself, cleaning his hand, and smoothing his usually-immaculate blond hair which had been admittedly suffering of late as much as his confidence and state of mind. He did up his shirt buttons, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the cupboard slowly, feeling as though his very fate depended on it, although if he'd been in a healthier frame of mind he would have known that he still had a fair bit of time in which to improve upon the cupboard.

The apple looked at first glance to be whole and Draco reached out a shaking hand to lift it out of the cupboard.

It was then that he felt the juice dripping down the back side of the skin.

Draco turned the apple to look at the bite-sized chunk of flesh that had been removed from the apple in transit and he felt hot tears pouring down his face.

In a moment of despair and rage, Draco threw the apple into the mess of the Room of Hidden Things, knowing the moment it left his hand that he would never find it again.

It took a moment for Draco to make sense of this thought, to compose himself, for at that moment he had several thoughts pop into his head at once.

One was that the green apple, his beautiful pureblooded apple, had held up the best to the broken cabinet. He might have been able to brush that off as silly, except that he felt certain that the Mudblood apple, the one that had put the image of Hermione into his mind, had been the worst for wear before he'd Vanished the mess of apples.

This thought comforted him immensely, as though somehow the apples were a testament to the rightness of blood purity, and that if he only kept on as he had through the war everything would turn out all right for him, or better than it would for the Mudbloods and Muggles, anyway.

Another thought was that the Vanishing Cabinet had obviously improved since that morning, that he was on the right track, and that really the bite-sized chunk out of the apple was much better than the bird he'd absolutely bloodied the week before. A bit longer in the right direction, and his plan would be ready to put into place.

The other thing he thought was that it was probably for the best that he would never find the apple again. He was no longer a boy with his childish desires and associations. He was no longer weak enough to linger on the passions of the lusts of his youth, and so to rid himself of such temptations as the apple presented to him was for the best. If he was to be a proper Death Eater, a proper servant to the Dark Lord, then such depravities as the one that had haunted him for three years could not be entertained.

Draco worked hard on the cabinet, forcing himself to forget about the apples, hard as it was, and just thinking he might have to Obliviate himself when he realized that the charm of apples was that they were flawless and smooth.

If he marred all of his apples in nonsexual ways... If he could find a smooth and flawless person...

But he had work to do, and so he finished his work on the cabinet for the day, thinking over all he would do to it in the morning as he walked out of the Room of Requirement.

As he walked down the corridor, a small smile came to Draco's face for the first time in the whole of the time he had been working on his task.

He smiled, not because he realized how near to completion his task really was, for he was prepared to be cautiously pessimistic about that, but he smiled because he recalled her name, finally.

The girl with the smooth, flawless skin and the pure, noble blood. The girl who had seen him in his moment of shame and not flinched or even run away in truth.

Astoria Greengrass.


	3. A Drapple Finale: An Acquired Taste

**A/N: First of all, I can hardly believe I'm back, doing a THIRD chapter of this, of all things. It's a bit bizarre, of course, but I did the unthinkable last Halloween: I watched all the Harry Potter films in a single day. Which was a strained experience, to say the least, but I also noticed a couple more instances of prominent apple placement that got my wheels turning, and this had to be done. This is post-war. Remus has survived, but everyone else is dead. There will be flashbacks. For the sake of all our sanity, I pray that this is the LAST chapter of this that I do. But I guess it's safer not to make any promises. Who knows, maybe I'll do a spin-off with pears. ;)**

** -C**

Remus rubbed his forehead, feeling the creases and scars under his hand where they lined his skin. He felt that he had done everything asked of him by the courts and then some, but he couldn't blame Andromeda for using her influence and her sister's monetary pull with the Ministry to keep Teddy out of Remus's custody.

After the final battle, after the dust settled and Voldemort was dead, Remus's near-corpse was found to be actually living, and when he was revived fully three days later he learned that his wife was not. No news could have been more stunning to Remus, who had been certain that she had been with her mother, with their son, keeping safe. But then, what on earth could he have expected from Tonks but for her to be in the thick of things, especially when someone she loved was on the line?

Much like another Black he had once known, and he had lost both of the loves of his life because of that stubborn, selfish family trait.

Remus shuddered to think of what he had become since the war ended. Until Kingsley had offered him a post at the Ministry, until Hermione and Harry had forced him to look in the mirror, to see himself for what he was dissolving into, Remus had let go of everything entirely. He barely noticed that Andromeda had taken Teddy for a day or two, such a drunken stupor he existed in for directly after being discharged from hospital. He should have thought of Teddy, thought of his son, but it was not hard for Andromeda to have him legally declared unfit, not as a werewolf but as a war victim requiring rehabilitation.

That was something, at least. She had not done it out of spite. Andromeda may have been Bellatrix's sister, but she threw her weight around to force Remus to do the right thing, not to keep her grandson for herself. That was the promise, that once he turned his life around again, Remus would win back custody of Teddy and Andromeda would be the one with pre-arranged visitations twice a week, although of a less formal nature.

With a heavy sigh, Remus dipped the nib of his quill into the ink well one last time, signing his name to the reply with some trepidation. Although they had agreed on this criterion, it seemed Remus should have gotten a more clear definition of what she expected of him for getting his life back in order, because she refused to approve his requests. He had a job. He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in nearly eight months. The psychological Healer he had been seeing three days a week when Teddy was first taken had announced three weeks prior that Remus no longer needed to schedule regular sessions, but was free to come by any time he felt the need for guidance, or even simply someone to talk to.

Remus had burned the man's card almost as soon as he stepped into the open air, but not because the man hadn't been helpful and kind. Somehow, he had even managed to avoid obviously bestowing either pity or disgust, for which Remus was immensely grateful. But burning the card was freedom, freedom and what he thought was the last step for getting back his son. What else was there, after all?

That was what he was asking Andromeda in his reply to her latest refusal. How could he fix his life if she did not give him her parameters? He was more than willing to meet any reasonable demands, but he had to know them before he could strive to meet them.

He sent off the letter with the owl that had delivered her response in the first place, and then he stretched, scratching his jaw thoughtfully. Perhaps there was some obvious thing he was neglecting, something right in front of his nose that he just couldn't see.

Well, no time for that now. He cleaned up his workspace in the modest flat he'd moved to, desperate to be out of the house he had shared with Tonks, the house that almost seemed impregnated with her memory. The custody issue was enough of a reminder of how frequently, how fully he had failed her without having the physical manifestations surrounding him whenever he ate, slept, frowned at an empty bedroom just after waking and wondering why there was no pillow beside his pillow. He never grew used to the cold, empty space where a beautiful heart-shaped face should have been resting on a firm pillow, smiling at him in her sleep, as she always seemed to do.

Remus put on his work robes with a faint flicker of pride at how well they fit, what good condition they were in. He even had two spare sets. He could scarcely believe anymore that he had tried to turn down the job Kingsley practically forced him to take. After all, he had argued, who was he to decide the fate of other creatures?

Apparently, he was the only man for the job, and Hermione Granger herself had recommended him to it, and who was he to argue with one of the greatest war heroes? Especially when she gave him that knowing, warm smile that was just a tiny quirk of the lips from becoming a feminine copy of Sirius's signature smirk.

That was one of the joys of working with the Magical Creatures department. There were so many familiar faces, one of them being that of Hermione Granger. Whether or not she would stay there long was anyone's guess. She had no concept that she would stay forever. Instead, she had made it perfectly clear to Kingsley when she submitted her CV to the Department that she would be staying long enough to enact a rather large and sweeping gambit of reforms for house-elf treatment and status before finding another project that suited her more for the long term.

If anyone else had suggested that such an initial project would take less than a lifetime, Remus would never have believed. But Hermione Granger, she did unbelievable things as a matter of course. From her, he expected nothing less than the seemingly impossible to be done every day.

He made his way into work that morning glad to be able to do a few basic charms to keep his person dry. With luck, all werewolves would have the right to a wand, the right to learn magic, to keep it if they were old enough when bitten. With time, he hoped to eradicate lycanthropy entirely by getting proper help for those infected to make certain no more innocents were cursed by improper care of the infected.

No bites, no lycanthropes. Since he had proved that children born from male werewolves with a human mother while conceived outside the full moon would not be a werewolf, there was a chance for werewolves – the males, at least – to live normal lives with wives and families and everything, no wolf traits passed along whatsoever. Remus was working to get further research done to determine whether any werewolf traits could ever be passed genetically, and if they could not, he could eradicate the problem entirely, with a lifetime or two's work to bring about a change in the treatment of the condition.

Remus considered his commute to work over when he finally crossed the threshold into the department offices for his department. He had an office on the far end, but he didn't mind. It was an office, and one that no one could rip from him for his condition.

One of the only things, that.

"Remus!" a voice like warm honey said, an obvious smile behind the words. Remus turned to see Hermione Granger, the very picture of poised and official, standing before him, beaming over a stack of bills and files in her arms. "Harry wanted to remind me you were to see him at lunch today. He was worried you might have forgotten that you pushed your lunches to Fridays because of the Auror shift changes."

He had forgotten, but he found himself not wanting her to know that, so he merely nodded, thanked her, and asked her what all the paperwork in her arms was for.

"Oh, I told you about the bill I'm drafting on contract privileges and minimum requirements for elves already in service in a home or other such establishment, yes?"

"You had mentioned it," Remus said, trying not to show his amusement. He appreciated her passion for justice, and he shared it. They would not have fought a war without it. But he wondered if she would ever understand that she could legislate all she wanted, but until she did something to change the attitudes of house-elves themselves, giving them say in their own situation would lead to minimal – even perhaps pitiful – levels of real change in the working conditions for the elves. They did not want change, and how did you help someone not willing to help him or herself?

Hermione explained more detail on her bill that she had not previously mentioned, and Remus silently marveled at how she managed to hold all those documents without showing any apparent strain on her wrist. She had not made the stack featherlight, or it would have floated out of her hands by this point.

When she seemed to be talked out about her bill Remus said, "Actually, Hermione, I wonder whether you might take a look at the work I am doing on the bill for parental privileges for male werewolves? I feel like there's something I'm missing."

He certainly didn't miss the slightly pitying look in Hermione's eye at the mention of parental rights, but she nodded gracefully and said, "Of course, Remus. I actually wanted you to take a look at a few clauses on the matter of the minimum requirements stipulations. I am having trouble getting the wording just right to avoid loopholes."

Remus smiled sadly, knowing how badly she wanted to close off any opportunity for a family like the Malfoys to find loopholes in her legislation that would allow them to continue exploiting their elves. No matter how many times someone told her that avoiding all loopholes was impossible, Hermione insisted that nothing was impossible.

"I would be happy to take a look," Remus said slowly, "but I don't know that there's much I can do."

"We'll see," she said brightly. "Lunch Thursday?"

His heart began to speed up when she said that, and he didn't know why, but he nodded and they set a time to meet for lunch the following week. He added it to his calendar when he reached his office, before he did anything else.

Remus sat in his chair and rubbed his eyes, pulling a stack of files toward his chest. He had a strange job in that something always needed to be done, but almost none of it was ever urgent. Remus was constantly busy, but never in a rush. He opened the top file and let his eyes slide over the page lazily as he thought about his heart's reaction to Hermione's lunch invitation. He supposed it was only natural to be slightly excited when invited to lunch by a beautiful woman. A chemical reaction.

Still, he felt ashamed of himself, not because he was a werewolf exactly, but because she was young enough to be his daughter. He had been her teacher, after all. He could still easily recall her as a thirteen-year-old girl, if he so chose. He preferred not to, as the thought made him uncomfortable, but it wasn't difficult.

A wave of nausea ran through him and he pushed the files away, wondering whether it might not be prudent to postpone lunch with Hermione until he'd had some time to sort out his feelings and desires. Or perhaps he should meet her in a very public, official place where he could keep himself from behaving inappropriately. Not that he didn't trust himself, exactly, but he had tried to fight his body's urges before.

That had led to marrying Tonks and making her pregnant.

No, it was safer if he kept a more professional distance. Perhaps he ought to invite Harry to lunch with them, or Luna. Luna was in their department, and sometimes had interesting things to say. Not necessarily useful or helpful things, but interesting. He flexed his quill absently as he considered whether it would be prudent to invite Luna after all.

Against his best efforts, Remus spent much of his morning combating a steady stream of thoughts about how attractive Hermione was and how kindly and innocently she had invited him to lunch. He was almost relieved when the clock chimed half past eleven to let him know that it was time for his lunch break.

Remus hurried to the cafeteria, a place where a few government contracted restaurants set up in the Ministry and workers and visitors were welcome to purchase or bring a lunch to consume. Remus spotted Harry and Neville in the corner by a fichus and he quickly purchased a pasty.

Harry waved a smiled when Remus approached. Remus took his usual seat across from Harry, next to Neville.

"I thought you'd forgotten," Harry said. "Hermione reminded you?"

"She did," Remus said. "How are you two? How's Ron?"

Ron Weasley had been a regular member of their weekly lunches until quite recently. Ron decided to leave the Ministry, and gave no real reasons for doing so. As of that morning, he worked for his brother, George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, still thriving in spite of Fred's death and George's obvious depression.

"He's doing okay, I guess," Harry said, frowning. "He won't talk about it, any of it. Mind you, she's been pretty stubborn about the whole thing as well."

She, of course, was Hermione. Ron and Hermione had been dating for some time. Remus was not privy to the specifics of when the relationship started, but he supposed it had been sometime during the war. The assumption was that once things calmed down, Harry would marry Ginny (when she graduated) and Hermione would marry Ron. It was a neat solution that would give satisfying and happy endings to many books about the war, about Harry and Ron and Hermione.

But Remus had lived through two wars. He knew better than most that such satisfying endings, such neat wrappings, rarely stayed satisfying or neat. Perhaps Harry and Ginny were still happy together, but Remus had never understood what Hermione saw in Ron. Oh, he was kind and loyal, of course, but she needed someone who could challenge her intellectually, appreciate her on all her glorious levels.

He caught himself beginning the spiral to his fantasies that had been plaguing him all morning and quickly cleared his throat.

"Perhaps it was simply a matter of time," he said honestly. "Few people meet the love of their life at eleven, after all, and even fewer marry their school sweetheart."

"And even fewer stay married," Harry said sullenly. "Remus, d'you think my parents would have stayed married, you know, had they survived the war?"

Remus's eyebrows twitched up in surprise at the question. The possibility never occurred to him. Lily and James were an odd couple in many ways, but their bond was sealed over more than a wedding ring and a child. Fighting a war together, it changed the way you saw people, the way you saw yourself. For all the growing up James had done in seventh year, he grew up ten times as much in their first year out of school, constantly under fire.

"I really don't know," Remus said slowly, "but I believe they would have stayed together. It's hard to say what would have happened after the war, but…James matured immensely, and Lily became a much more…forgiving person."

Harry just nodded, absently pushing penne around his plate with a slightly bent fork.

"You know," Neville said softly, "I've been thinking about quitting too."

Both men turned to Neville with surprise, blinking.

"Don't get me wrong," he said quickly. "I love working for the Auror office. My Gran's very proud of me, and we do important work." Harry nodded. "But…I was never meant to be a soldier, Harry. And we've caught pretty much everyone still at large. This isn't the life I wanted." He frowned. "I just want a quiet life with some interesting plants, you know?"

Remus and Harry nodded, and Remus recalled Frank telling him on a mission once, many years ago, that if things had been different he would never have become an Auror. If not for the war, if not for Dumbledore's urging and recommendation, Frank Longbottom would have liked to travel to the Amazon to study a particular fungus he thought would be the key to curing Muggle cancer.

Perhaps Neville would find that fungus. Frank would have a hard time knowing about it, in his condition, but Remus had no doubt that Frank would have been immensely proud of Neville, even if all he did was have a quite life with some interesting plants.

Harry asked what Neville planned to do, should he decide to quit, and Neville began to tell them about some Herbology research Pomona Sprout had given him access to the initial findings of, some sort of carnivorous berry found only in remote zones of Lapland. Neville explained that with correct feeding of the berry, it would be possible to create a juice that had the potential to increase shelf life and decrease brewing time on potentially thousands of potions.

"Can you imagine?" Neville said, his eyes glowing with excitement.

"No," Harry said, laughing. "Can you imagine what Snape would say if you made that kind of breakthrough for the Potions community?"

All three men laughed, and they talked about work, family, friends, and other superficial things for the rest of their lunch break. Neville and Harry had reports to fill out after lunch, and Remus still had time before his afternoon meeting, so he went back to his office to do some filing.

Remus nearly finished all of his filing by the time Luna Lovegood poked her head into his office and said, "Remus? I was just heading to the conference room. Would you care to walk with me?"

"Of course, Luna," Remus said, setting down the file he had been about to put away. "I'm glad you dropped by on your way. I lost track of time."

She smiled a vacant, dreamy smile and said, "I suppose it's good, then."

Remus grabbed his notes, locked his office, and the pair of them strolled to the end of the department, to the elevator, and settled in for a ride up two floors to the conference room scheduled for their meeting.

"Why do we need a conference room for a meeting of three people?" Remus had asked.

"Because all the smaller meeting areas were already booked," Luna had replied, unconcerned by the pomp.

When they arrived at the glass-walled conference room, the vividly blond head of Draco Malfoy was already bent over a stack of papers, waiting for them.

"You're early," Luna said loftily, sitting down across from Draco, who at least had the decency to sit at the center of the table.

Draco's family had been left off charges of being Death Eaters, vouched for by Harry Potter himself for their actions against Voldemort in the final battle. Narcissa and Draco had been given particularly glowing statements from Harry, and although reintegration to society had not been easy for any of them, Narcissa and Draco weathered it with the pride typical of Malfoys.

Lucius had been spending most of his time in his ancestral home, not really weathering anything at all.

Draco used his cunning, money, and family status to secure himself a Ministry position, and after impressing Kingsley and getting Harry's recommendation – of sorts – he was now acting as a junior undersecretary to the Minister. The career was a promising one already, and Percy Weasley had mentioned to Remus not a month ago that if Draco kept on at the pace he was going, he would be senior undersecretary by Christmas, perhaps even heading a minor department within a year.

All of that hinged, of course, on the success of the bill he was drafting with Luna and Remus. Although Remus had been skeptical when Draco first approached him with his thoughts on the bill, Remus had become very impressed not only with how Draco handled the very sensitive issues surrounding creatures rights and victimization, but also on his magnanimity in choosing co-sponsors for the bill, such as Luna Lovegood.

"She's the best at what she does," Draco had told Remus in a drawl that any pureblood would have been proud to imitate. "I won't work with anyone but the best on this."

The bill in question was a succession of funding measures meant to improve conditions, aid, and public opinion of creatures victimized during the war. This included those victimized by Ministry measures, such as centaurs and goblins. It also included those who had been exploited by the Death Eaters and Voldemort, such as house-elves, giants, and werewolves – especially those who were bitten by Greyback and his followers to increase Voldemort's ranks, or those attacked because they or their loved ones defied the Death Eaters, much as Remus had been attacked, as a child.

Luna had suggested the idea of extending the bill to include Dementors, but Draco and Remus managed to convince her that would be taking the matter a bit too far. Getting the funding they required for such a massive undertaking would be difficult enough in the climate they lived in, even with Hermione Granger's very vocal support of the measure.

"I have good and bad news," Draco said when Remus and Luna pulled out their notes, ready to work. "The werewolf colony on the moors you put me in touch with has agreed to meet with us to discuss their medical needs, and maybe even other needs. Wish I could say the same for the Welsh community…."

Remus smiled slightly.

"They have reason to be anxious," Remus said gently. "The Welsh community allowed themselves to be helped by a humanitarian group just after the first war, and it turned out to be Greyback's followers masquerading as humanitarians to ferret out human sympathizers. Almost half the community were killed or brutally tortured. I spent some time there during the war, though, and I have a few people I can try to persuade."

He made a note to pay a visit to Seren within the week. She would be able to convince her mate to meet with Draco, at the very least. Once they sat him down, he should be capable of listening to reason.

"The centaurs are proving stubborn as well," Luna said dreamily. "Ronan doesn't want to agree to anything unless you meet his demands for land rights."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. They had been round and round on this point with the centaurs for nearly a month and a half.

"I can't meet all of his demands," Draco groaned. "I'll see if I can get Minerva, Kingsley, and Hermione to sit down, though, find some way to give them some concessions on the matter. I'm afraid I haven't even gotten to the bad news yet."

"What is it?" Remus asked, frowning.

"I've spoken with my people at St. Mungo's, and a few contractors. Just the werewolf ward alone," Draco said, "Will cost more Galleons than the campaign to repair Hogwarts, and that's not counting staffing, stocking, and maintenance costs."

Remus winced and Luna dropped her quill.

They knew the endeavor would be expensive, the werewolf ward especially, but they had not predicted such incredible figures. Draco pushed the newly projected sums across the table for Luna and Remus to look at, and Remus could feel his stomach turning.

"We can't possibly ask the Ministry for all this," Luna said reasonably. "They still haven't finished repairs to this building yet, much less Hogwarts and Azkaban."

"We won't," Draco said firmly. "We're going to ask the same amount we projected to start with."

"That's only about a fifth of what we'll need," Remus argued. "Assuming these projections aren't optimistic, and I've been around long enough to know that projections are always optimistic."

"Of course," Draco said. "We just have to be able to prove that we will have the funding from other sources. I think the first place to start is a charity fund."

Remus could see where this was going. Have the wealthiest families in the wizarding world get together for brunch, make emotional appeals, have Harry discuss the plight of the poor, victimized creatures, maybe even get Hermione or Kingsley to talk about the tragedy of not being able to help all these creatures who needed help. Then these families would do their duty, open their pocketbooks, and give over generous donations to the cause.

To be repeated as often as necessary until project completion, of course.

"I have already spoken to my mother about it," Draco said. "She would be happy to help chair the fund, as she has some experience in these matters, but it would be best if someone a bit more…politically acceptable co-chaired."

"You're thinking Harry," Remus said, hoping he didn't sound as accusatory as he felt.

"He won't have time," Luna said. "And I really doubt he would want to."

"No, no, I did think of that," Draco said, waving his hand absently. "I was thinking someone a bit more…populist. Do you think Molly Weasley would be willing?"

Remus almost choked on his tongue at the suggestion. Of course, Molly had come to appreciate that Narcissa saved Harry's life, and thereby the lives of everyone who managed to survive the battle at Hogwarts. But there was still an awful lot of blood between the Malfoy and Weasley families, not least of all because of how Bellatrix Lestrange tried to kill Ginny.

"I think that's something Luna and I had better investigate," Remus said quickly.

Draco smirked.

"Please do. Express that my mother would be willing to work with her on the project, and that it would be a way to not only do a great deal of good, but hopefully to bury some hatchets."

"There's an awful lot of hatchets to bury," Luna said dreamily. "Speaking of Weasleys, did you speak to Bill, Remus?"

Remus took this change of topic and ran with it, expressing the surprisingly good turn of luck Bill had as their liaison to the goblins regarding the bill.

So the meeting went for hours, well past their scheduled time. As none of them had anything else they would be doing except working on the bill in question, they simply continued the meeting. Remus lost track of time as they went through item after item, assigning responsibilities, reporting progress or lack of progress, and finding places where they could streamline costs or cut costs altogether.

"We need to have a working budget for Kingsley before we can set up the fund," Draco said. He yawned, stretched, and scratched his chin as he checked his watch. "Oh, we're off the clock."

"Really?" Remus said, pulling out his dented pocket watch to find that they were, indeed, past time when work ended for each of them. "So we are."

"There's still so much to cover," Draco said, frowning. "I suppose I could get us a meeting tomorrow?"

"We could just go out for drinks," Luna said. "Unless one of you has somewhere to be."

Draco and Remus looked at each other and shrugged. Remus had nowhere to be on days when he wasn't allowed to see his son. Nowhere to be but his bed. He couldn't have alcohol unless he wanted to jeopardize his recovery, but there was nothing to stop him from having a butterbeer.

"Astoria is out of the country for a week with friends," Draco said. "I'm game if you are."

So they agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron in fifteen minutes and hurried back to their offices to grab their things and lock up their notes for the night.

Remus Apparated to the pub as soon as he left the anti-Disapparition field of the Ministry, and Luna was already there, a gillywater in hand.

"I would have ordered for you," she said kindly as he sat down, "but I didn't know what you wanted."

"That's just fine," Remus said. "I'll be back."

Tom the barman had sold the Leaky Cauldron to Hannah Abbott, another former student of Remus's. It seemed all of his former students were doing interesting things, although he had thought Hannah would amount to more than a barmaid.

"What can I get you, Professor?" she asked, smiling with rosy cheeks and shining eyes.

"It's just Remus, Hannah," he said hoarsely. "I haven't been a professor in a very long time."

"Remus, then," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Butterbeer," he said, and she poured him a pint of it just as Draco stepped up to the bar.

"Mead for me, Hannah," Draco said. "No cherry this time."

Remus raised a questioning eyebrow as they returned to the table with their drinks.

"A cherry in mead?"

"Something she's been trying," Draco said, wincing. "I think it's dreadful, but there are apparently those who disagree. Here we are. Now, where were we?"

They spent two hours drinking and discussing a few finer points of financing and what to do about the request of the merpeople to be included in the bill.

"It's not a question of equality, it's a question of need and ability to service," Draco argued when Luna suggested that it was only fair to include them. "They were hardly touched by the war for one thing, and even with that in mind there are no feasible methods at present for administering to their populations. If you think the cost of the werewolf ward is steep, imagine building an entire partially submerged hospital to allow humans to provide medical services to merpeople. And then there's a question of getting enough interpreters of Mermish."

"The interpreters for the goblins are already a high cost," Remus said, nodding in agreement. "There hasn't been much incentive for people to learn Mermish. There are precious few jobs in it."

"Perhaps it's something to consider," Luna said with surprising sternness, "for plans of a second phase, if you ever intend to extend the bill."

Draco conceded to keep the point on the table for a future phase of the project and they continued like that for another half hour before talk of business became personal conversation. Luna was applying for a grant to search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in South America, and Draco's life was consumed almost entirely by work and plans for his upcoming wedding to Astoria Greengrass.

"I don't suppose," Luna said, matter-of-fact, "that you'll still be wanting me to procure you apples now that you're getting married."

Remus felt the blood drain from his face and he nearly dropped his pint.

Had Luna really said what he thought she said? Had she said…apples?

Draco pursed his lips, glancing around at other patrons to see if anyone else was watching or listening before saying softly, "D'you think you can get me one more batch of the red and yellow ones? For the stag night."

Remus closed his eyes. This couldn't be happening. They couldn't be having this conversation. Not in public. Not about…apples.

"Oh, sure," Luna said, as though nothing strange was being discussed at all. "Who knows, maybe Astoria will be understanding."

Remus heard Draco's bitter, disbelieving laugh, but it seemed to fade away with the rest of the room as he was overwhelmed by a memory he had long since forgotten, a memory he had tried not to think of in years….

/-/

_ Remus frowned as Sirius tossed back his head, his smooth, raven-black hair flipping away from his face and back again. Ever since Sirius brought the magical gramophone they had been listening to the record collection he and James shared. In honor of Peter's birthday, they were having a drink every time the lyrics said the word "girl."_

_ As could be expected after three hours of listening to The Beatles and Led Zeppelin, Peter was passed out and Sirius and James were incredibly pissed._

_ "I think you've probably had enough," Remus said softly as James tried to dance along with the music, nearly stumbling over._

_ Sirius snorted and said, "Well, that tells me you d'finly haven't had enough."_

_ Remus was going to protest as Sirius approached with a fresh bottle of firewhiskey, but he already had a few drinks and he was mesmerized by the glint of firewhiskey off the bottle while Sirius moved in time with the beat of "Day Tripper." Remus caught himself licking his lips, and Sirius must have seen it too, because he clucked, muttered something about "eager," and pressed the bottle to Remus's lips._

_ "C'mon now," Sirius said, grinning as Remus wrapped his lips around the bottle, knowing what Sirius was about to do. "That's it. Good boy."_

_ Remus felt a growl building up in his throat, but Sirius tipped back the bottle, forcing Remus to drink. He swallowed the firewhiskey almost happily, feeling the heat on his tongue, the burning of his throat, the warmth settling in his belly._

_ About halfway through the song he couldn't have said how much he consumed in this manner, but there was something about the combination of the firewhiskey, the smell of Sirius's cologne, the sound of Lennon's voice that made Remus's dulling mind think of sex._

_ "Had enough?" Sirius asked, his voice in the mix making Remus whimper. Remus shook his head, definitely not having had enough. Sirius laughed, his free hand going to Remus's hair, mussing it up. "Didn't think so."_

_ How long he was drinking from the bottle didn't matter when Sirius finally pulled it from his mouth, a bit of the precious amber liquid dribbling down Remus's chin. Remus whined at the loss, and followed Sirius back into the center of the room for more._

_ "Did y'get them?" Sirius said, pressing his face against James's face to ask the question, but his voice well above a whisper._

_ "Yeah," James said, frowning over at a snoring Peter, who seemed unperturbed by the volume of "Come Together."_

_ "Lemme see."_

_ James went around his bed to get something, and Remus took the bottle from Sirius, who snorted._

_ "Looks like it's just three of us," James said, again glancing over at Peter. "D'you think maybe we should—?"_

_ "Are you joking?" Sirius snorted. "Nah, Pete would wet himself if we even said the word sex."_

_ Remus dropped the bottle, stunned, looking up to see James approaching with a small bag. It wasn't the right shape to have alcohol, and from the bulges it probably wasn't weed, either._

_ "See?" Sirius said. He gave a bark of laughter. "Even Moony gets startled by the word. Nah, best to leave it to jus' the three've us." He winked at Remus. "C'mon, you've gotta see this."_

_ "See what?" Remus asked, feeling a twinge of apprehension as James set the bag down between them._

_ "Well, I got four," James said, scratching his chin. "But I guess we can share, or save some for later."_

_ "Share," Sirius said eagerly, snatching up the bag and turning it over. Out poured four perfect, shining, green apples, rolling to the center of the room next to the firewhiskey._

_ Remus blinked, not sure he was still conscious. Perhaps the alcohol was causing him to hallucinate. Apples?_

_ Sirius picked one up and grinned. Remus watched as his friend ran the smooth skin of the apple against the smooth skin of his own throat._

_ "Perfect," Sirius groaned, and Remus shivered. "You've got good taste in apples, James."_

_ "Just as long as you're looking at the apples and not Lily, I'll take it," James said, picking out another apple and running the skin of it across his lips. Remus could see James's tongue dart out to touch the skin of the fruit and Remus shook his head slightly, not entirely sure what was happening. But he decided, in his dizzy mind, that there was something very erotic about it._

_ Sirius gave a low laugh, the dangerous one that only happened when he was thinking of doing something particularly devious._

_ "Remus doesn't know what to do with himself," Sirius said, winking at James. "C'mere, Moony. Naw, closer."_

_ Remus did as directed, very nervous, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. Sirius took the apple in his hand and the bottle of firewhiskey in the other and slowly tipped the bottle._

_ "Don't let any touch the ground," James warned. "Can't get firewhiskey in the carpets."_

_ "I won't," Sirius said, his regular smirk adorning his perfect face. "Remus is going to make sure I don't."_

_ "What?" Remus whimpered._

_ "You're going to lick it up," Sirius said softly. "Off the apple. Make sure none of it drips off."_

_ Before Remus could protest Sirius began to pour the alcohol into the dip around the stem. Sirius held the apple stem carefully, making sure it didn't turn and twist as he poured. The liquid was going to begin dripping down the sides of the apple soon, and Remus realized what Sirius was trying to make him do._

_ Remus tried to splutter out his objection to this plan, but Sirius said in his dangerous voice, "Don't let it fall, Prefect. You wouldn't want to lose house points, would you?"_

_ Sirius loved holding the badge over Remus's head, manipulating Remus to play the role they needed him to play in their plans because he was the only person in their group capable of being responsible._

_ A bit of firewhiskey was rolling down the side of the apple and Remus realized that Sirius wasn't going to give in. Sirius's gray eyes were watching him like burning coals. It didn't matter what they were arguing over. Remus could never outlast Sirius in a fight. He lost every staring contest, every round of the silent game, every eating contest, every game of chicken._

_ And Remus quickly leaned forward and licked the bit of firewhiskey just before it fell off the bottom of the apple. To be careful, he licked up the side of the apple where the trail had been, cutting off that route for escaping liquid. His eyes caught sight of another bit of firewhiskey about to drop, and he eagerly hurried to cut off its path as well._

_ "That's it," Sirius encouraged, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Lick it. Lick it all up. Don't let any of it drop."_

_ The smoothness of the apple, the sensual music, the sound of Sirius's voice and the smell of Sirius's cologne, and eventually the sound of James moaning somewhere in the background spurred Remus on. He was eagerly lapping up all the firewhiskey, licking every remnant of it off the skin of the apple, that precious apple Sirius was offering up to him._

_ At some point they ran out of firewhiskey, and at Sirius's hungry urging Remus took a bite out of the apple, and the rest of the night was a bit of a blur._

_ Remus only knew that he woke up the next morning feeling sore, stiff, and sticky everywhere, most notably on the bum. He was entirely naked, a few dirty apple cores were at the foot of his bed, and Sirius was lying beside him, also naked, looking absolutely perfect._

_ The episode led to more episodes, almost exclusively with Remus and Sirius. Remus would think they were done with the apples, but then Sirius would get Remus alone, get that sideways grin, and then produce an apple for the two of them to share. Particularly once Lily and James began to date, many of Remus's weekends were a haze of firewhiskey, sweat, Sirius, rock 'n' roll, and apples. Whatever Sirius's feelings on the matter were, Remus seized it as an opportunity to be with Sirius without admitting his attraction to Sirius, without being gay. And what was wrong with that?_

/-/

_ Remus had been struggling with his desires and confusion since Sirius broke out of Azkaban, knowing that Sirius was not the man Remus had come to love. Maybe he never was that man, but if he had ever been, he wasn't anymore._

_ Every time Remus saw an apple he felt transported, and he wondered if this was why Albus Dumbledore had insisted he work at Hogwarts – to keep Remus from giving in to his weakness and finding Sirius. Surely Albus remembered how often his Gryffindor prefect found himself in trouble because of his inability to tell Sirius Black no. Surely Albus knew how helpless Sirius could make Remus._

_ Of course Remus wanted to protect Harry. It was noble, it was right; it was the only thing he could do now for Lily and James._

_ Remus had set a red apple in his office to remind himself not to give into weakness. Red, of course, because he and Sirius had always used green apples. He hoped the differences would serve as a reminder and not a temptation._

_ But speaking of temptation, he was standing in his classroom, watching students prepare themselves to deal with the boggart in turn. Remus was trying to think about the other students, but his attention was constantly falling on Hermione Granger. She was only thirteen and he hated thinking it, but he had thought almost the instant her hand shot up in the air to answer a question, that her lips looked remarkably soft._

_ Of course, even for a thirteen-year-old, she wasn't what he would have called attractive, not yet. She had bucked teeth, quite bushy hair, and if she had any sort of figure (probably not yet), there would be no way to tell through the robes. Perhaps with time she would become quite attractive, when she learned to tame her hair and grew into herself a bit. But he could tell from the shape of her face, the curve of her lips, and the beautiful way her eyes glowed when she was excited about something, that all the raw materials were there._

_ Before he realized what he was doing, watching her eyes grow wide at the sight of the banshee that materialized as the boggart of another student, Remus began to eat the red apple._

_ Stunned by the realization that his mild level of attraction to this student had led him to eating apples again, startled by the sight of Harry at the front of the line and the thought that Voldemort himself might appear as Harry's boggart, Remus rushed forward, taking the boggart for himself and banishing the image of the full moon._

_ Several students looked puzzled at the sight of Remus's boggart, obviously trying to determine what it was, and Remus quickly wrapped up class and dismissed the students. Hermione Granger was one of the students who was frowning in thought, and he felt utterly ashamed of himself._

_ Remus took the half-eaten apple once the students had left and frowned at it. A symbol of his weakness, of his monstrosity. How could he allow himself to be so weak? His weakness was the reason Lily and James were dead. If he could have been the Secret-Keeper, if he hadn't agreed that Sirius was the best choice because Sirius had given him that smirk that promised a reward for agreeing…._

_ He closed his eyes before he started to cry tears of shame and waved his wand, promptly setting the apple on fire. He needed to be stronger, for Harry's sake. But he had forgotten just how hard that could be._

/-/

_ He should have been happy, on some level. Remus had some of his life back. Sirius was innocent, the Order gave him a level of purpose he hadn't had since the first war ended. He even found himself enjoying the company of Sirius's cousin's daughter, Nymphadora Tonks, who had been only a small child when he last saw her._

_ She certainly wasn't a child anymore, he thought, watching her and Sirius playing Exploding Snap on the kitchen table while Molly made a pie for the upcoming meeting._

_ Nymphadora, or Tonks as she preferred to be called, had a perfectly formed heart-shaped face and lips that fell into a smirk the same natural way Sirius's did. Being a Metamorphagus gave her interesting possibilities, for certain, but Remus rather enjoyed looking at the features she chose for herself when at rest, with her shocking pink hair and shining gray eyes that also matched Sirius's. Not to mention the fact that the body she had at rest wasn't bad to look at as well._

_ Remus shook his head, setting down a half-consumed cup of tea and excusing himself upstairs to the library, where he began to run his fingers along the spines of books that had once belonged to Orion Black. A small, bitter smile played at the corners of his lips as he wondered what Orion and Walburga would have said to have a half-breed like Remus touching their precious books._

_ Perhaps Orion was turning in his grave. Walburga certainly was, that Sirius had become heir of the Black fortune._

_ The sound of a throat clearing behind him caused Remus to jump and turn, finding Sirius standing there, a bitter smile on Sirius's perfect lips as he surveyed the room._

_ "Should have known you'd gravitate toward the nearest library," Sirius said, stepping into the room and shuddering slightly. "I wouldn't open any books without checking them for concealed enchantments first. My father had a…vicious collection. Puts the Restricted Section at Hogwarts to shame."_

_ Remus nodded, feeling his fingers twitching to touch Sirius as his hands fell to his sides. He had avoided being alone with Sirius for extended periods of time, not because he did not want to sit with his old friend and reminisce, but because he knew it wouldn't be good for either of them to relive the past. After all, they were all each other had left. The Order wasn't likely to have less of a mortality rate the second time around, and it would be too easy for Remus to become entranced again, dependent on Sirius in his way._

_ It was hard enough avoiding Sirius, but he was also avoiding Nymphadora and her obvious and flattering interest in Remus. She was difficult to avoid, too, as slippery and persuasive as her cousin. Remus couldn't think of two people less convenient to be caught between, two people more magnetic, two people he wanted more._

_ "I think Dora has a thing for you," Sirius teased, and Remus turned to look out the window at the street below. Sirius followed, putting an arm around Remus, who closed his eyes._

_ "I know," Remus said, his voice sounding tight in the stuffy room. "We were working on a map of the lower levels of the Ministry last night and she tried to kiss me."_

_ "So why haven't you shagged yet?" Sirius said, amused. "I mean, she's young, attractive, eager…."_

_ Remus sucked in a deep breath. Sirius would understand if Remus could bring himself to say it out loud, but how did you tell a man you'd known almost your whole life that you were in love with him? As children, as teenagers, as young soldiers in a war it had always been a thing half-understood between each other that could never be said. Where did that leave them now? Aging men no longer the foot soldiers, no longer schoolboys, no longer with much in the way of promise in their lives._

_ What harm was there in reaching out, touching Sirius's face, letting it happen? After all, they could always live together, have their own sort of happiness with no fear of children or hurting anyone but each other. Harry could visit on holidays, wouldn't even have to know…._

_ "Boys?" Tonks said, and Remus and Sirius both turned to see her smiling at them. "Molly says you're not to touch the pie while it's cooling, but if you're hungry before the meeting she had some leftover apples, and you can help yourselves."_

_ Remus tensed at the mention of apples, something else he had been avoiding since his minor meltdown at Hogwarts. Sirius let out a strange, short bark of laughter._

_ "I'm not hungry," Sirius said. "Remus, you should go have some apples with Dora."_

_ He gave Remus a playful, gentle jab in the ribs with his too-thin elbow and Remus could feel his face beginning to flush with shame. Tonks's lips were still in a smile, but her eyebrows had twitched together slightly in confusion as she looked between the two men, trying to discern what they were talking about. Remus knew how easy it would be to take an apple or two, introduce Tonks to the fetish Sirius had hooked him on at sixteen, maybe even convince her to change her hair black and grow it out and pretend for a few hours that it was the right thing to do, a healthy alternative for everyone._

_ "I'm not hungry, thank you," he said stiffly, pushing past a sniggering Sirius and hurrying up to the room he slept in when he spent the night at headquarters. He locked the door, curled up in a ball, and closed his eyes tightly, letting waves of lust, desire, and heartache overwhelm him as he trembled and fought the onslaught of tears._

/-/

_ The theory behind mourning was that after a certain amount of time the pain would be less, the preoccupation of thoughts would be less, and the bereaved would be able to move on with life as well as one can after a loss. Eventually, they would think of the present more than the past and they would be "normal."_

_ Remus didn't know who came up with these absurd theories, but obviously no one who had been through a war._

_ All year he had struggled to get over the loss of Sirius. Perhaps even more difficultly, he was trying to move on from the mistakes he made directly after losing Sirius, of winding up in Tonks's bed several times, indulging privately with a couple of apples._

_ He did love Tonks, very much. Perhaps even more for having lost Sirius. But as he had just told Arthur, how on earth could he have anything to offer her? What did it matter if they loved each other? They were fighting a war, they were from different worlds, different eras in wizarding history. She couldn't even fathom the things he'd seen, the things he'd done._

_ He closed his eyes and weighed the pros and cons of not opening the door, pretending he couldn't hear her knocking on the door to his flat._

_ "Remus?" she said._

_ Merlin, she sounded so pathetic. He closed his eyes tighter, gripping his sheets in balled fists and wondering how long it would take her to go away. Could he ignore her that long?_

_ "Remus, please."_

_ Her way of producing weakness in him was very different from Sirius, and he hadn't been prepared for it. He expected her to steamroll him as Sirius had done, to insist until she got her way. When she shut down, lost her ability to change her appearance, succumbed to self-pity and depression, it was shattering to Remus. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain. Sirius, he couldn't feel pain, at least not as far as he let anyone else see._

_ Tonks had tapped into Remus's greatest fear, perhaps without even realizing. She had been crushed by Remus, and unintentionally. There was no way to win anymore, because if he continued to push her away he would hurt her. If he gave in and followed the path everyone expected and wanted for him, he would probably hurt her in some other way._

_ Still, probably wasn't certain._

_ "Remus?"_

_ He sighed, letting his hands relax, feeling the sheets expand and attempt to return to their former flat shape. They remained in little wrinkled peaks as he stood, letting go of his inner voice that told him no good would come of this. No good would come of anything, so he opened the door, her beautiful heart-shaped face looking up at him, tearstained and stunned._

_ "Remus, I…" She sucked in a breath and forced a smile. "I thought you would… I thought…."_

_ He licked his lips, not wanting to give himself time to change his mind. If he took a moment to think about it he might turn away, say no to her again, not let her back into his life, but now they had lost Albus on top of everything else and Remus had nowhere to turn._

_ For all he knew, they'd all be dead tomorrow._

_ "Marry me," he said._

_ The words tasted unnatural on his tongue, sounded wrong to his ears, but the impact they had on Nymphadora was incredible. Her eyes shined slightly as she mouthed the words, her mind trying to grasp that this was really happening._

_ Before she had a chance to give him an answer he took her by the hand, leading her into his flat, having only the presence of mind to close the door behind them before kissing her._

_ She responded eagerly, almost instantly, and when he pulled away from the kiss her hair was no longer mousy-brown, but a sort of mauve, and it was several inches shorter than it had been. He might have laughed about the concept of a healing kiss if he hadn't awakened a hunger he had been denying for so long._

_ Her body fell onto the two small wrinkled peaks of sheets without noticing the strangeness of their texture, the leftovers of his attempts to resist the hunger consuming him. In the morning, perhaps he would regret the promise to marry her, but for the moment he could think of little other than the feel of her skin on his, the taste of her lips, and how incredibly soft she was._

_ He swore off apples in that moment. However long the marriage lasted, however long they managed to survive, he wouldn't touch another apple. The least he could do was do this properly, faithfully, for the little time they had left._

/-/

_ Remus kept the promises he made to himself about his marriage to Tonks. He married her, he kept away from apples, but he hadn't counted on her getting pregnant. He touched his knuckles where he had hit Harry – Harry, of all people – and he felt shame and self-hatred filling his chest like a tightness._

_ The apples sitting in the bowl across from him in the hotel room he decided to spend the night in were almost grinning at him with their knowing sheen. He hadn't made the right choices, hadn't gotten over Sirius at all. He had given in to his desires with Tonks thinking they were both near to death, but they'd lasted months and there was a chance they might even last the war. After all, how could they leave a child – their child, he thought with a shudder – without parents?_

_ Was this how James felt when he found out Lily was pregnant? This horrible swirling feeling of regret, remorse, of having failed something unborn? Remus slide his fingers up into his hair and gripped at his hair with all the force he could muster._

_ James hadn't had to worry about the possibility his child was a werewolf, the shame of having infected an innocent child with his condition. How was he any different from Greyback? All this child's life would be one of pain, of marginalization, something Remus knew so well and had never wished on another human. How could he live with himself?_

_ He had bought the apples thinking that looking at them would help him purge some of his inner demons, but the longer he stared at them the more they taunted him. He could almost see Sirius's smirk, almost taste the firewhiskey Sirius had poured down the sides of that first apple, almost feel his tongue against the sticky-smooth skin of the apple while Sirius watched him lap it up. He shivered._

_ This was a mistake, all of it. So many mistakes, so many assumptions._

_ He snatched up an apple and bit into it, quickly chewing and swallowing, not allowing himself to think about the taste, to savor the texture. He needed to consume it, purge himself._

_ He ate the flesh of the apple, the sink of the apple, even the core and seeds and stem of the apple, and then he picked up the next one. Remus hardly cared if this was healthy or not. He simply consumed the entirety of apple after apple, focusing on Harry's taunts._

_ Leaving his child, abandoning it…. James and Lily would never have imagined doing such a thing. Harry was absolutely right, it was the sort of reckless, self-absorbed thing Sirius would have done, thinking that by fighting he was setting up a better world for the child in the long run, and what did it matter if he wasn't physically there to raise the child himself?_

_ But Harry's anger made it perfectly clear how much it mattered. Harry was a good child, kind and forgiving. His parents, they hadn't had a choice. They did everything to be with their child, to protect him, to defend him, until the very moments they died. And no, Remus was not James. He was not Lily. Sirius's selfishness had always drawn him in because a bit of him was selfish as well. He understood sacrifice like what Lily had done, but he could hardly fathom making such a sacrifice himself. He fought because he needed to fight, and he had nothing else. The moral implications were a bonus._

_ He could see this, so surely he could combat it. Perhaps marrying Tonks was a mistake. Conceiving the child certainly was. He licked his lips, tasting the last apple on his lips and feeling slightly queasy at the fullness in his belly. He had made those mistakes and could not undo it, but perhaps he could do something right, find some way to make things as right as he could now the damage was done._

_ All running away could do was hurt those he loved more than he had already. Harry was right, running away would only lead to another regret in a growing list of them. For once in his life he had to force himself to do the unselfish thing, to return to Tonks and raise that child, whatever the child was when it was born._

_ He closed his eyes, fighting the nausea, leaning back on the bed and running through what on earth he was going to say to his wife in the morning, when he went home._

/-/

"I'll have them for you on Tuesday," Luna said, smiling her absent smile as Draco finished his drink. "Is Astoria still going to be out of the country then?"

"Yeah, she comes back on Thursday," Draco said softly, his incredibly pale skin tinged slightly pink. "Should give me plenty of time."

Remus did think about minding his own business, but as his own mind began wondering whether it would be a good idea to try an apple or two again now that his marriage was over, now that he was a bachelor again, he knew he had to say something.

"Be careful," he said softly to Draco, glancing around at the bar to be certain no one could hear them. "I've been down that road, Draco, and it's not something that can be stopped and started so easily. I doubt your wife would understand…. Be certain you'll be able to stop before you let yourself get pulled in deeper."

Draco smiled sadly at Remus, his pale eyes speaking of some pain well remembered and he said, "Oh, I know. I know exactly how hard it can be to stop. I'll…be as careful as I can, I suppose. There are some things, though, that are worth one more go."

After another twenty minutes or so, Draco decided to call it a night, citing a meeting with the Minister and his staff in the morning. Remus tapped his fingers on the table, still trying to keep himself out of thoughts of the apples he had enjoyed, but Luna had to go and make it worse.

"You know," she said, "I could get you some apples, if you'd like. What's your variety?"

Remus pursed his lips, glancing over at the kind, vacant face of Luna. She was telling him about the orchards that she knew people at, and how she had a good pick of the fresh apples. Remus weighed his options. Take the apples or abstain? And if he took them, which he felt more and more likely to do the longer he sat there, red or green? The green apples brought to mind almost instantly the thought of Sirius's high cheekbones, the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat and precum.

The red apples, though, brought the soft-looking lips of Hermione, her lush curls and sweet-smelling perfume to mind. His hands clenched and he looked up at Luna, whose rambling cut off when she met his eye, smiling mildly.

"Red and green," he said, his voice quieter than he expected it to sound.

"How many?" she asked, making a small note on the napkin she'd taken down Draco's order on.

"One of each," Remus said. She opened her mouth, no doubt to tell him she could get more, but he shook his head and said, "Just one of each, Luna."

They said their goodnights not long after, and Remus went to bed that night with his head swimming with lust and self-disgust and he wondered if he had done something potentially detrimental by asking for those apples.

/-/

Remus frowned at the apples Luna had dropped off at his after work on Tuesday. Red and green, shining in the lamplight. They were teasing him, taunting him. He had half a mind to forget the whole thing and throw them out, truly get rid of the whole mess that was his past. The only good thing that had ever come out of it was Teddy, and Remus couldn't have him. Why should he want any of it?

But he could almost feel the green apple under his fingers. He licked his lips absently, wondering if he still had some of that bottle of cologne Sirius hadn't finished before he died….

Remus hated himself, spritzing the cologne over his sheets, breathing in the spicy scent, wishing the illusion of Sirius could really be Sirius. He picked up the green apple first, taking it back to his bed, laying back on the sheets, breathing in the lingering scent of the cologne. He let the apple rest on his lips, breathing deeply as he undid his trousers and slowly slipped out of them.

The whole thing was too familiar, almost unreal like a scene from a movie he'd seen a hundred times. His lips grazed the skin of the apple, careful not to break it, desperate to savor these two solitary apples. It would be too easy to let this encounter spiral into self-pity and lust, and he had only just managed to get his life back to a place where was proud of it.

The concept of self-control, however, was more difficult to maintain the harder he pressed his teeth into the apple. With his eyes shut tight, he could almost see Sirius's eyes burning like violent gray coals, could almost taste firewhisky on the flesh of the apple. The ache of lust began in his chest and traveled down the center of his body until it throbbed in his cock.

Remus moaned, finally biting completely into the flesh of the apple, tasting the mouthwatering bitterness of the juice with remarkable sharpness. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed this set of perfectly discordant sensations that seemed infinitely connected in his mind.

His hands and body followed an almost automatic set of motions, tasting and touching, releasing and penetrating, until he collapsed, spent physically and out of apple. Remus curled up in the sheets, still able to just barely smell the cologne on his pillow, mingled with sweat, apple juice, and cum. He breathed in the scent and bit his lip in a desperate attempt to keep from crying.

It wasn't much use. A painful sob caused his whole body to double over and he clutched at the pillowcase with sticky fingers, feeling a horrific emptiness in his chest. It was the closest he had felt to Sirius in years, and all he could feel now that it was over was the horrible realization that he would never be closer again. He would never touch Sirius, never hear his voice or laugh, never smell the unique scent that was Sirius just after climax.

Remus languished, unable to move, desiring nothing more than to stay in those sheets for as long as the scent remained, just to hold on a little longer to this little tiny piece of a perfection that he would never achieve, a perfection he desired more than anything for most of his life.

No tears came. He simply closed his eyes so tight that it hurt and rode out wave after wave of painful sobs that caused his whole body to twitch and writhe.

Perhaps he deserved this.

/-/

Meeting Hermione at a restaurant for lunch felt strangely like a date, no matter how Remus tried to tell himself that the restaurant was casual, they were in the middle of their workday, and nothing remotely date-like would occur. After all, they were having a working lunch. They were discussing bills.

Nothing sexy about that at all.

Except, as it happened, when discussing bills with Hermione Granger. She had a way of talking when she was on a roll, talking about something she was excited about, and her words would speed up and her voice would get a bit higher and her face would flush. Her neck flushed too, he noticed, and Remus tried not to wonder whether the flushing went any lower than her neckline allowed him to see.

"It seems to me," he finally said after clearing his throat, "that your bill could do with a particularly powerful sponsor, someone from the old order of thinking on house-elves. Pureblood elite."

"It's already got Harry Potter's support," Hermione said, frowning and tapping her fingers on the table. She had been doing that most of the meal, either tapping her fingers or eating her pumpkin ravioli.

"Yes, but Harry Potter has always been a bit…progressive," Remus said, trying not to grin at the thought of Harry as part of the old order. Sirius, he would have counted, although for Hermione's bill he probably wouldn't have been conservative enough. No, this had to be from someone who had owned house-elves, someone who perhaps even still owned house-elves, someone willing to make strides to improve their public image, willing to put money and support behind a progressive bill to earn a better standing in the new, post-war world.

Someone like Lucius Malfoy.

"I'll have a chat with a few people I know," he promised her. "There's a possibility I can get you a sponsor whose name will shock people enough to reconsider things they've taken for granted all their lives."

The way she lit up when he made this offer, Remus smiled in spite of himself. He had forgotten to guard himself from her charms, and in that moment he decided that this was what had been missing in his life. He missed companionship, a charming person sitting across from him….

Even a relationship.

Maybe this was what Andromeda was looking for, signs that he was ready to interact with other people on a committed level.

On some level, he knew these were excuses to ask Hermione on a date, but as the conversation turned to his bill, he could hardly bring himself to care. He simply listened to Hermione's thoughts attentively, watching her perfect lips as they formed each word.

/-/

To Remus's surprise, Hermione was more than favorable to forming a relationship. She agreed to go on a date with him, and then another, and then another, and then….

Their first kiss was standing outside her flat, saying goodnight. He had been thinking of her lips for several hours a day every day since she first agreed to a date, and still he was afraid to kiss her. She was the one, just as he was about to turn to go, who rolled onto the balls of her feet and pressed her lips insistently to his. The sort of bold move that had attracted him to Tonks, to Sirius.

She knew what she wanted.

And Hermione Granger continued to know what she wanted. She introduced him at a café to someone she had met during the rebuilding of Hogwarts, and she introduced him as her boyfriend before they had ever used such words with each other, before Remus would have imagined using such a word.

Three days after the café, Hermione pulled Remus into her flat for kisses, and three hours later, into her bed for their first sexual experience.

They had normal dates, with normal nonsexual experiences, normal meetings at work, normal lunch with friends. But for Remus, the days seemed to pass in a haze of sexual energy and behaviors, lazy afternoons off with skin on skin and sweaty nights that seemed endless as he savored the friction of their bodies and the symphony of their pants and sighs and moans.

When he was off and she worked, he had a solution for his cravings, and Luna gave him regular deliveries of green and red apples. He especially loved to let out the bulk of his hunger and insatiable drive with the apples, knowing that Hermione would never be able to keep up with his appetites. As it was, he knew he was pushing her limits for how much sex she could reasonably have during a week, and that little bit seemed to only whet his appetite.

The apples and their feel, their scent, the feel of stickiness that remained on skin where their juices had dried…. Remus found himself going into a sexual frenzy at just the smell, able to see so clearly in his mind's eye Hermione's perfect lips, Tonks's porcelain skin, Sirius's soft hair and cheekbones. He could almost smell the spices of Sirius's cologne, the floral notes of Hermione's perfume. He could taste firewhiskey and chocolates and the taste of sweat on skin. If he let himself fall into the experience enough, sometimes he could even taste the mix of tobacco and weed on Sirius's breath, in the stale air of the boys' dormitory after an apple encounter, before cleaning and after climax.

Remus met Draco for a quick drink to discuss some details for funding of the werewolf ward and Remus asked Draco how the marriage was going.

Draco gave him a sad smile. He took a long drink from his firewhiskey glass before he said, "You know, I love Astoria, but I'm fully aware of what I've given up for her. Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it, but she's a special woman. She understands how hard it is for me. She doesn't…understand enough to let me indulge anymore, but she only asks that I be faithful and I do my best." He shrugged. "I can't really ask for more than that."

Remus nodded. He did not know Astoria Greengrass well, but she had always seemed to be a very reasonable girl – young woman now. Hermione was reasonable as well. Perhaps, perhaps she would be understanding like Astoria. It had never seemed right to tell her about the apples, especially with the very strong memories connected to them, but if he was going to do it right this time, move forward – move on, even – he had to do it completely.

Draco, though, touched Remus's arm after they paid for their drinks.

"I know you and Hermione have been seeing each other," Draco said softly. "Tread carefully."

Remus raised his eyebrows and asked what Draco meant, but the Slytherin just shook his head, glancing around at the other patrons of the bar.

"Just be very careful, Remus. She's strong, but…."

The rest of the sentence hung unsaid on the air, but Remus could not discern what exactly to make of it. Before he could ask, Draco was gone.

Strong, but…. What? Wasn't that everyone? Sirius had be strong, but impulsive. Tonks had been strong but lonely.

Remus, Remus was strong but broken.

What was Hermione's qualification? Strong, but…?

What?

/-/

For a month, Remus and Hermione had been sleeping together. They weren't quite at the stage where they started moving into each other's places, but most nights they slept in the same bed. When their sex got too comfortable – as it did quickly, having so much of it – he was pleased that she would introduce ways to change things up, like different positions, different rooms of the house, new lingerie.

But Remus decided that the only way to heal, the only way to come to terms with his past, was to have his life fully integrated, to be honest with Hermione and to be honest with himself. Slowly, of course, carefully, but that was the key. He knew it.

They had the first weekend off together since they had begun sleeping together, and Hermione was staying over at his place. The timing was perfect, Remus decided. Luna had gotten him a fresh dozen green apples, perfectly formed, unblemished apples. Friday night had been full of sex in various positions and locations. After tea on Saturday, though, Remus decided it was time for an open and honest conversation about their sex life. After all, that was a healthy thing to do, wasn't it?

"Hermione," he said, after clearing his throat uncomfortably, "I wanted to talk with you about something."

She hummed her acknowledgement that she was listening as she hand-dried the dishes she had just hand-washed. He had offered to clean them by magic, but she insisted on doing it by hand, said it was soothing.

Remus rubbed his palms on his thighs, transferring as much sweat as possible from his hands to the fabric of his trousers. Delicately. Carefully. Slowly.

"I know you've been thinking of ways to…enhance our love life." He licked his lips. "Our sex life."

She did not turn around, but he could hear the small smirk in her voice as she said, "I'm listening."

His heart had already been racing, but it sped up again at the way she said those words. Draco was wrong. She would be receptive to this. He knew it. His cock hardened as he remembered long afternoons with Sirius, doing whatever Sirius ordered him to do with the apples, from licking firewhiskey off the sides to eating the flesh of an apple Sirius had rubbed himself to climax with. Once, when they were incredibly drunk and feeling especially bold, Sirius had Remus lick the apple while he was using it to rub himself to climax. Accidental licks of Sirius's flesh, the feeling of Sirius's cum on his face….

Euphoric.

Remus swallowed, feeling an imagined lump in the tightness of his throat. He tried clearing it again, but nothing seemed to work. He closed his eyes and said, "I was thinking maybe we should try some…fetishes."

Hermione set down the plate she had been drying and raised her eyebrows at him. Her lips were twisted with amusement, and her eyes were shining with the beginnings of lust. This seemed promising to Remus.

"What sort of fetishes did you have in mind?"

Remus was open to suggestions, but for now he had one he wanted to try so badly…. He wasn't quite sure how to say it, so he danced around the issue for a bit longer.

"Like, food, maybe?"

There were lots of food fetishes. Chocolate, caramel, whipped topping, even steak. There was no reason for her to think he was talking about apples, but somehow, the knowing look in her eye made him certain that she knew exactly what he was talking about. To his relief, she smiled, crossed the room, and kissed him.

"I think that's a great idea," she said, letting her fingertips trace his collar teasingly. "Do you already have supplies, or—?"

"Yes," he said, a little too quickly. "Yes. I…."

His heart was pounding so wildly against his chest that it was almost painful, certainly distracting. Thinking was so complicated with the smell of her perfume, the feel of her fingers, the thought of running a perfect green apple across her skin. But he was the one giving orders now, and he could not simply be in a sexual haze, not to begin with.

"Go to the bedroom," he said, hoping his voice sounded firm. He felt like putty. "I'll be right in."

She kissed the corner of his lips and he fought a growl forming at the base of his throat, and he watched her sashay into the bedroom, watching every sway of her hips. He licked his lips. His hands were shaking as he hurried to dig out the apples, still perfect, still shining in the light. He brushed his fingers across the skin of one feeling the perfect skin, firm and supple under his fingertips.

He had to get a grip, keep control of his senses long enough to get things going. Once Hermione was in a haze, he could submit to his desires, but not before.

Remus took the bag of apples into the bedroom, watching as Hermione slowly unbuttoned her shirt. He licked his lips again, and watched her eyes as he confidently poured the apples out onto the bed.

What happened next happened so quickly, so suddenly that he was in a bit of a daze. Hermione shrieked – which was actually one of the more terrifying sounds he had ever heard – and slapped him so hard across the face that something in his neck popped loudly. Not loud enough to cover the sound of her hand hitting his face, but still quite loud. Remus blinked at her, completely bewildered. A moment ago, they were happy. She was happy.

Now she was enraged.

"Do you think this is funny?" she nearly screamed at him. "Some kind of joke? Did Draco put you up to this?"

"What?" he said, trying to separate her words into sentences. A joke? Draco? "N-no, I—"

"This is not a fetish," she snarled. "Chocolate is a fetish. Caramel is a bloody fetish! This is a…a…. This is a fucking perversion!"

Remus recoiled as though she had hit him again, feeling his back hit the bedroom wall.

She continued to scream at him, but he did not hear her words. As far as he was concerned, she had already said enough. A perversion.

Somewhere, in his gut, he felt that she was right. He had said the same things to himself many times, every time he tried to quit, every time he felt guilty. Every week that Sirius was in Azkaban he repeated those words, over and over and over again. A perversion, a weakness of the soul, a moral degradation of his character. Another sign that Sirius had manipulated him, corrupted him, used him.

Even after he learned Sirius was innocent, sometimes he still felt the guilt and shame when he looked at an apple. If you couldn't tell people about it, wasn't that supposed to make it wrong? Unnatural? Twisted?

The disgust in Hermione's face was palpable, and he did not know how long she screamed at him before she left. Remus stared at the apples on the bed feeling such a powerful wave of self-loathing, such as he had not felt since before he went to therapy.

Hermione Granger, the most notoriously tolerant witch in Britain, hated him. She was disgusted by him. She could live with the age difference. She didn't mind his lycanthropy. Nothing had mattered to her, nothing that should have mattered, that would have mattered to any other woman.

But there were some things, some perversions, some disgraceful behaviors that it seemed even the great Hermione Granger could not live with.

And Remus hated himself.


End file.
